


The Trouble With The Children

by Codydarkstalker



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Alfred, Batfamily Feels, Damian Wayne Feels, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Robincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codydarkstalker/pseuds/Codydarkstalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman think he can learn to be a better father figure if him and Conner spend time with the Bat Family. Then he sees what a mess the Robins are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Superman looked around the room and sighed. The Young Justice headquarters were a mess. Superboy and M’gann were the only ones living there full time, but somehow the main living areas were a wreck. There were wet towels on the bathroom floor, dirty dishes piled on the table in the living room, and an unspeakable mess that looked a bit like a lab experiment gone wrong in the kitchen sink. 

“How did this happen?” Superman looked down and flinched slightly, seeing he was standing on a pair of discarded boxer shorts.

“Teenagers,” Batman replied, chuckling darkly. “This is what teenagers do Clark, they make messes. Get used to it.”

“Bruce, I have seen the manor, it does not look like this,” Superman shot back, kicking the boxers away. He was displeased to see they had a large Superman logo on the back. “And I know that almost all of this is Conner. M’gann doesn’t strike me as the messy type.”

Batman shrugged and pushed aside a pile of laundry so there was a place to sit on the couch. “I have Alfred. Also, the boys might be a holy terror most of the time, but they aren’t really messy. I raised them a bit better than that.” Well, Alfred did, but that was close enough. “I don’t think Cadmus bothered with a chore wheel.”

Superman resisted the urge to simply vaporize the dirty dishes. There was something living on them, but it was hard to say if it had gained sentience yet. “Well, I have no idea what to do about this, short of trying to hire Alfred away from you, but I’m not sure we can afford that.”

“You cannot.”

Superman groaned and then brightened suddenly. He had an idea. “Maybe the kid just needs to see how a house full of super heroes should run. That way he would start to act more like a hero and less like an animal.”

Bruce stiffened. “Oh? And where would he do that? Gonna have the team move into your apartment with you and Lois? Or are you going to add some bunk beds to the fortress?”

Superman flashed a toothpaste commercial worthy smile. “I was thinking the manor has plenty of space.”

“What was that about the manor?” 

Superman looked up to find a Robin looking at him. It took him a moment to figure out which one, Drake.

“I was simply saying that maybe some time in the manor would be good for Superboy, get everyone out of headquarters for a bit. Good team building stuff you know? Plus, I haven’t visited in ages.”

Tim hesitated a moment and then nodded, grinning. “Cool, I bet Conner would totally love it, the cave has a way better gym and sparring area than we do here.” He turned on his heel and ran off down the hall, already shouting to his team members.

Bruce turned and glared at Clark from under his cowl. “This is a bad idea Clark. The Robins are fine when they’re here but at home they can be a handful. Adding in a bunch of extra people is just going to make things worse. You know how well Damian plays with others.”

Superman just shrugged and headed down the hall to find Red Tornado. “I’m sure the little birds can manage for a few days.”

Bruce watched the other man leave and then shrugged to himself. “It’s not my fault if one or more of the Robins makes this week hell,” he muttered to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Packing up Conner was easy. His belongings consisted mostly of a set up seven identical black shirts with a red super logo, a few pairs of jeans and boots, and a few “trophies” from old missions. It was all in a box and ready to go when Clark showed up the next day.

“Need a hand with that?” He asked, automatically moving forward to grab the large cardboard box.

“No,” snapped Conner, pulling back slightly. “I have it.” He glared up sullenly at the older man.

Clark let his hands drop to his sides and nodded. It wasn’t as though Conner really needed help with the box. He could easily lift a thousand times that weight. But he had felt like it was the right thing to do, to offer. He had seen Bruce do similar things, wordlessly taking a heavy bag from a tired Robin after a mission. It was hard not to feel jealous, parenting just seemed to come easier to the human.

Outside of the base a sleek black town car was waiting. Alfred was standing beside it, and opened the trunk for Conner as they approached.

“Good morning Mr. Kent, Master Conner. I was instructed to pick you up and take you to the manor. May I assume that this is all we will be moving? If there’s anything larger I can send a truck ‘round this afternoon.” Alfred waited for Conner to settle the box in before closing the trunk and opening the doors, gesturing for the two men to get into the car.

Inside the car was surprisingly spacious, even for Clark who always felt a bit cramped inside anything less open than a bus. The seats were baby soft black leather and the inside smelled pleasantly of pine scented cleaning agent and expensive cigars.

“No, this will be all Alfred, thank you,” Clark answered, sliding his seatbelt on. He knew it wouldn’t do anything to help him in an accident, but he did it anyway, every time. It was something Bruce liked to tease him about from time to time.

“Thanks Alfred,” mumbled Conner, scooting into his own seat and clicking his seatbelt into place after a few angry tugs.

Alfred slipped into the driver's seat and took off down the road, easily maneuvering the car through traffic. “I have taken the liberty of preparing two rooms for you. Mr. Kent, you will be in the North East of the Manor along with Mr. Wayne. I am aware you often work from home, so I picked a suite that included an office. If you wouldn’t mind providing me with a key to your apartment I would be happy to fetch anything you might need.”

“Oh, there’s no need Alfred!” Clark held up his hands. “I went ahead and brought over some things earlier. Bruce let me stash them in the garage for the moment but really I can unpack my own stuff.” He rubbed at his neck and smiled awkwardly. A butler was something he would need to get used to.

“Certainly sir, whatever you wish.” The car sped up for a moment as Alfred slipped them into a minuscule looking gap between two large trucks, the rear bumper coming within an inch of the truck before he pressed down on the gas and sped off down the highway. “Master Conner, I have given you the room next to Master Tim in the Western Wing of the manor. The other boys have their rooms in that hall, and I thought you might enjoy the company.”

Conner nodded silently, his eyes focused on the world outside the window.

Clark considered saying something for a moment, he knew his own mother would have smacked him upside the head for ignoring an adult, but he decided against it. Martha, the woman he would always think of as his real and only mother, had taught him manners his whole life. Holding Conner to those standards after he spent the majority of his existence in a Cadmus test tube, and the rest being taught social mores by people like Wally West, didn't seem fair though.

The Robins were polite, mostly. They seemed like good kids, well raised considering they all seemed to have some sort of tragic origin. Damian had moments where his assassin upbringing and generally poor temperament flared up, Jason was a little too fond of firearms and explosions, and Grayson had some questionable tastes in costume choices and significant others...Okay the Robins were a bit of a mess but by the standards of sidekicks they were doing well.

He let those thoughts go as the car rolled up private road to the manor. The large wrought iron gate opened for the car, and they pulled up the long gravel drive and onto the grounds. The manor was huge, a towering gothic building looming on a hill, surrounded by pine trees and ancient looking oaks.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of the massive french doors, and Alfred let them out and then took Conner’s box out of the trunk before he had a chance to object. As soon as they opened the door they were greeted by the sound of barking, and then Clark felt himself almost being bowled over by a giant mass of fur and muscles. His body reacted before his mind even caught up, and he moved to hovering a few feet above the floor so he would have some space between himself and the hell hound that had run at him.

“Titus! Get back here! No trying to eat the aliens!” Damian barreled down the hall, heavy boots thumping on the ground. He skidded to a stop in front of Clark and grabbed the dog by the collar, pulling him off with a grunt.

Conner snorted. “Huh, didn’t realize you have an attack mutt.”

Damian scowled up at the taller boy and hugged the dog close. The mutt in question was huge, one of the largest dogs Clark had ever seen, and despite his aggressive look he seemed happy to let Damian hug him half to death. Clark let himself gently settle back to solid ground and reached out a tentative hand for the dog to sniff. It licked his palm and leaned it's head forward so he could scratch it behind the ears.

“He’s not a mutt. His name is Titus, and he lived here first so you have to be polite.” Damian stood, one hand still firmly on the dog’s collar, and turned his attention to Alfred. “We’re low of hay for Bat-Cow. And Alfred got into Todd’s closet again and made a nest in his sweaters, so he’s complaining about the hair.”

Alfred held back a sigh and nodded carefully. “I see, well I will be sure to attend to...all of that… as soon as I have our guests settles. Please tell your father they have arrived.”

Damian nodded and raced off down the hall, dog close at his heels. When he turned, Clark could see the words "No Meat Athlete" stenciled on the back of his hoodie.

Clark shot a sideways look at the butler. “Did he say Bat-cow?” He cocked an eyebrow up questioningly.

Alfred hid a laugh with a polite cough. “Yes, I imagine it will help you feel more at home sir. Now, let me show you to your room.”


	3. Chapter 3

Wayne manor was huge. Big enough, it turned out, to get lost in if one wasn’t paying attention. Which of course Conner hadn’t been. Because he just wanted to avoid setting up his room, and maybe find a snack. Instead, he was on what have been the fifteenth nearly identical hallway. From the walls, generations of what must have been important members of the Wayne family stared down coldly at him, probably judging him for the ragged hems on his jeans and the fact his boots needed polishing. 

After fifteen minutes, boredom set in and he took to opening doors to check if he was somehow just missing the kitchen. Office. Office. Small library. Guest Bedroom. Bathroom. Coat closet. Guest Bedroom. Damian Wayne and Dick Grayson kissing. 

Conner pulled the door most of the way closed, and stood there in stunned silence. There was no way he had seen what he thought he had seen. There was just no way. He took a deep breath and carefully peeked around the door before ducking back behind it, slamming it shut by mistake. No, there was no mistaking it. The youngest Robin and the oldest were sitting on one of the guest beds, making out. There had been a lot of tousled black hair, and a lot, a lot of tongue. 

He started as he heard a voice coming from the other side of the door. “You might as well come in Conner, we know you saw us!”

Conner blushed, and opened the door. Damian and Dick were still sitting on the bed, but the younger boy was no longer planted on Dick’s lap. Instead he was sitting on the duvet with his arms crossed and glaring at Conner as if he were the one with laser vision. It was a little unnerving, Damian didn’t have super strength or anything, but he was dangerous when he was angry. 

“Sorry,” Conner mumbled, staring down at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t mean to see you guys I just…”

“What were you even doing in this wing?” Damian snapped. “Your room is nowhere near here.”

Damian laid a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Now come on, Conner probably just wanted a look around the manor, it’s a big house.”

Damian scoffed. “There’s nothing even in this wing, that’s why we use it when we-” 

Dick cut him off, pulling him into a side hug that smothered his mouth so he couldn’t continue. “Aaaand that’s enough.” He turned his attention back to Conner. “So what were you doing down here? Just poking around?”

Conner shrugged a shoulder. “I was looking for the kitchen, got lost.”

“The kitchen?” Damian squawked, eye widening. “That’s not even on this floor Kent!”

Conner somehow turned an even brighter shade of red. “I didn’t really know where I was. I just kinda wandered around a bit.”

“Well, I could do with a snack,” Dick said easily. He stood up, keeping one hand on Damian’s arm. “How about we show you the way to the kitchens, so you don’t get lost again.”

“We?” Damian asked. “I have better things to do than play tour guide.” He slid out of Dick’s grasp and headed for the door. “Tell Pennyworth I’ll be training and would like a protein shake in an hour.”

Dick watched him go with a fond, if slightly bemused, expression. “He’s not that bad, really,” he said to Conner. “You just need some time to get used to him is all.”

“Is that how it worked for you?” Conner asked, following Dick out into the hall. “Because he seems to like you just fine.”

Dick gave him a sharp look. “I was his Batman, did you know that?” he asked, tone forcefully light.

Conner shook his head. He knew Batman, he knew the Robins (well most of them, it seemed new Bat family members were always coming out of the woodwork). But he didn’t know a lot about the internal dramas that took place in Gotham.

“I was his Batman. Bruce was...away for a while, and Damian had just come to stay with us. He was a menace.” Dick glanced at Conner. “You know about his mother’s family right? The kid was raised by assassins, he had all these ideas in his head, but knew nothing about the real world. So I was in charge of him. I was in charge of Damian and I was in charge of Gotham, and man, it was hard not to love him after all that.” He smiled to himself, lost in the memory for a moment. “He’s a good Robin, but more than that, he’s my Robin.”

Conner nodded and didn’t say anything else. It was hard, sometimes, for him to comprehend how close the whole Bat Family was. It was never life that for him. True, he had his own teammates, but it wasn’t the same. He craed for M’gann, and Wally, and Kaldur. But they weren’t family. He had a hard time considering Superman family, and they were biologically related, even if that fact did make Clark uncomfortable sometimes. It was hard to imagine how Batman’s family of misfits and orphans worked. 

Conner followed Dick down a few sets of stairs and several winding halls before they found themselves in the kitchen. It was nothing like the home kitchens Conner had seen on television. It was huge, twice the size of Conner’s bedroom at least, with a giant stove top range with a shiny hood, and several ovens tucked into a wall of cabinets. There was a huge island in the middle of the kitchen, with a butcher block top, over it hung a massive rack full of copper cookware, all the pots and pans gleaming in the lights. At the end of of the cabinets was a massive refrigerator with one glass door.

They made a beeline for it, pulling out cans of juice and popping open containers of leftover to see what was inside. They were halfway through a container of popcorn shrimp when Alfred walked in.

“Are you two content with scrounging around like feral raccoons or would you like me to make you a meal?” He asked, raising one eyebrow delicately. He had an empty tray balanced on one hand. “I just delivered a protein smoothie to Master Damian, and was getting ready to make lunch for Master Bruce and Mr. Kent. I would be happy to make something for you as well.”

Conner flushed guiltily. “I could maybe go for a snack or something,” he admitted. He was hungry, but he didn’t like being a bother. Having a butler was...weird. 

Dick grinned and hopped up to sit on the kitchen island. He grabbed another bite of shrimp and tossed it in the air, tilting his head back so he could catch it in his mouth. “I wouldn’t say no to something sweet Alfred.” 

Alfred rolled his eyes but busied himself in the fridge, pulling out numerous ingredients. “You know all that sugar isn’t part of the approved diet plan,” he said, setting eggs and milk on the counter.

“I do,” Dick nodded. “Which is exactly why you aren’t gonna tell Bruce. Because what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” 

“I guess that applies to a lot of things huh?” Conner muttered under his breath. He flinched when Dick kicked him in the side, shooting him a dirty look.

Alfred ignored the both of them and set about his task. He grabbed a canister of sugar and a container of flour off of a shelf, and began mixing ingredients in a large metal bowl. His movement were quick and meticulous. In a matter of minutes he had a perfect crepe sitting on a plate. He made over a dozen, each paper thin and a perfect golden brown. Half of them were set on a platter with ham, spinach, sliced tomato and cold chicken breast. The rest he filled with a thin layer of chocolate hazelnut spread and sliced strawberries. The sweet ones he garnished with powdered sugar and slid across to Conner and Dick.

“There, it has fresh fruit in it, so I suppose it’s not too bad.” Alfred smiled indulgently as Dick grabbed a crepe and swallowed it down in two huge bites. 

“Half the fun is knowing it’s bad Alfred,” Dick commented, licking a bit of chocolate off of his thumb.


End file.
